The House that Vanished
by Kierastarlight
Summary: Slash Dean/Castiel. Dean and Sam are solving a new mystery about a disappearing house. Dean's wondering when he will see Castiel again.
1. Chapter 1 Icing made of tears

This is the sequel to my "Jars in the Refrigerator" Fic. It is SLASH Dean/Castiel. It isn't necessary to read "Jars" first.

This is based on a short story I've previously written, with the same title.

The House that Vanished

Dean and Sam Winchester felt cold enough already when the icy rain started pelting down on them. Their thin jackets barely kept them warm, the rain soaked Dean's and Sam's jackets quickly, penetrated the flesh underneath, and clung to them like a woebegone spirit. This level of chill seemed – unreal. As if they'd dived into a lake that was covered with a sheet of ice.

Dean looked around – they were surrounded by black, leafless trees that reached up to touch the gray, ominous sky with their lifeless branches. It was a symphony of despair – cold, dead fingers reaching out infinitely to nothing at all.

The epoch of misery, Dean thought. Someone should snap a picture and put it in the dictionary. This place not only looked it, it felt it. Like hope had left this place a millennia ago and left nothing but empty, unfulfilled sadness.

"Does this place have a bad vibe to you, or is it just me?" Dean asked his brother.

"I've been to some depressing places before, but this one takes the cake. Several layers of cake."

"With icing made of frozen tears," Dean added.

"Well, maybe we can solve this mystery and turn it into something other than the place where death itself died."

Dean managed to smile. "Nice description." They walked closer to the bizarre scene that lay before them. A cement staircase with a rotten wood railing led up to a blank spot – there was nothing beyond it but a crumbling cement foundation.

They were in a heavily wooded area of Hamburg, Wisconsin, on a road that looked like it hadn't seen maintenance for twenty years. Or a living soul. Sam had read an article on the internet about a woman in a state mental institution that was convinced her father had disappeared into thin air and never returned, twenty years ago, by walking up these steps in the dark and standing on the foundation.

The weird thing was she wasn't in the hospital because she was delusional. She was there because the event had driven her insane. It had actually happened – according to her sister who wrote the article. They had both seen their father walk up into the darkness, beyond the light of the car's headlights, and never return. This was after he had told them repetitive stories about a house that vanished, according to the article:

"_Dad would take us down that road occasionally to give us a scare. It usually worked. By the time he told the story and we arrived at the place where the house used to be, I was ready to close my eyes and begging him to take us home. ___

_Dad wasn't mean; he just had a fascination with ghost stories. And he was good at telling the tale. There was once a house in the woods where a family decided to start a new life. They were tired of the city and wanted to be close to nature, so chose a property in the forest. The father built the house by hand with the help of his children and some friends. It was a large family with five children. It started with a cement truck coming to pour the foundation of the house. Cement steps were made to go up to the future front door. That night as the family stayed in tents nearby, two of the children decided to sneak out and play on the newly laid foundation. ___

_The next morning, the children were nowhere to be found. The family thought they had run away, and searched for days in the woods. They were never found. The only trace of them was the footprints they left on the foundation, because it wasn't quite dry yet as the children played. ___

_Eventually the family continued to build the house. Finished, it was two stories high and held enough bedrooms for all the children, even the missing two. One night after work the father came home and found the entire house had vanished. His heart wanted to stop in his chest, there wasn't a piece of rubble or ashes so it wasn't as if the house had burned down. ___

_He wandered around the woods trying to find his family, tears in his eyes and sheer terror in his heart. This reminded him so much of the night two of his children vanished. He wondered if he must be going mad. There was a full moon and an ominous feeling in the air. He walked back to the foundation of that house, walked up the stairs, and later on, friends and relatives were extremely puzzled when they could find no trace of the house or the family." __  
_

The author of the article had done some research later as an adult. There really had been a family and a house that had disappeared. At least that's what some locals claimed. And she and her sister both felt a hole in their heart for their missing father, but had no idea what had happened to him. She was hoping someone could solve the mystery.

"My first question," Dean said, "is if those little footprints are really there." They got closer without actually walking up the stairs or climbing onto the foundation. There were two sets of footprints that were pointed in the opposite direction of the stairs, heading into the middle of the foundation of the house. They walked around to where the back of the house had been, and the footprints did not meet the other side. They must have stopped somewhere in the middle, and that's how it looked from where they could see. They wandered all the way around the perimeter, checking to see if the children could have walked to an edge and jumped off. There were none, save the ones next to the stairs that only went inward.

"I would say that this could still be a hoax," Sam said, "because the foundation may have been dry on the other end, and therefore showed no footprints as the children walked on it. But this place feels so bad, I am willing to believe that it's true."

"Yeah, me too. And until we know more about what happened, no walking up those stairs or going on the foundation. As a precaution," Dean said.

"Agreed." They took out their EMF readers and turned them on – and they lit up like Vegas immediately. "No doubt about it," Sam said, "There is something very unusual going on here."

They checked every crack on the side of the crumbling foundation for something – although they weren't sure what that something would be. Obviously when the foundation was first poured, it was solid. They found nothing suspicious in or around the foundation.

"I wonder if there is something underneath the foundation. That they didn't realize was there. For some reason, this family didn't create a basement," Sam said. "That's kind of unusual, since this is the Midwest and most people are concerned about possible tornadoes.

"Yeah, it would be worth it to look back into local lore. I say we go back to our warm, toasty motel room and look stuff up. We can come back here when it isn't raining."

Sam didn't need any convincing there. They climbed into the Impala and turned up the heater full force.

-

They took turns taking warm showers and both men felt they needed to blow dry their hair afterwards. Despite the warmth of the room, the wetness of their hair felt like ice on their scalps. As if the cold had followed them inside and perched on their shoulders. Or rather, on their heads.

"Please don't tell me this case is going to be about an ice cold ghost that haunts us till it's over," Dean said. "I can't even stand the thought of a beer right now. I be needin' a nice hot cup of hot chocolate right now."

Dean fixed them both a cup in the room microwave. Heads and bodies dry, warm liquid going down both their throats, they were both starting to feel better. The ominous feeling from the woods was gone, too.

"I'd love it if we never had to go back to that place again, but I feel really bad for those two sisters – cause – you know – losing their dad and all," Dean said sadly.

"Yeah. Don't we know that feeling," Sam said. There was an uncomfortable silence. "You know, I would have thought that their dad was messed up in the head and just walked off the foundation on the other side, because they couldn't see that far in the darkness – but, I don't know. The EMF and the general feel of the place, and the history of the missing house and family point to something really weird going on there."

"Yeah. We'll definitely have some stuff to check out tomorrow. I think there is something weird going on too. But I'm going to hit the hay for now." Dean pulled back his covers and smoothed out the clean white sheets with his hands, then lay down. One thing that was nice about staying at motels was there were always clean sheets, and you never had to make the bed.

Dean closed his eyes and the music came to his mind softly, at a very low volume at first, that gradually got to a comfortable level. Until Sam spoke.

"Dean, can I ask you something personal?" Sam asked.

"Sure." Dean shifted on the bed and looked around so he could see Sam.

"Have you – heard from or seen Castiel since we left Darkhorse? I'm just curious."

"No. And I wish the dude would contact me for once, I'm tired of missing him."

"Must be different for you, having someone you miss all the time," Sam said.

"Sam, I miss you every time you go to the bathroom."

Sam threw a pillow at him. "Shut up."

"And I miss you so bad when I go to sleep. And I'm going to sleep now, so goodnight." Dean took the new pillow and cuddled up with it, his back to Sam again.

Dean closed his eyes again and listened for the music. He decided he wasn't going to tell Sam about the music. It was just between him and Castiel.

At least, that is where Dean assumed the music came from. Every night since he last saw Castiel, the music met up with him in his mind. At first he thought Sam had the radio to some classical station, because it sounded like a mix of classical and Pink Floyd. So it was tasteful, not boring elevator music. And every night was a new song that he'd never heard before in his life.

Dean assumed it was Castiel's way of letting him know he was there, thinking of him, even though he couldn't show up all the time. He felt a little bit of their connection in that music too. Dean knew people usually had favorite songs that reminded them of someone they fell in love with. In this case, he really could _feel_ that Castiel had woven elements of their relationship into the music. Emphasized, somehow, who Dean was, who Castiel was, and what their bonding sounded like, in a song. Well, that's what Dean felt, anyway. Maybe it was just being in love that made him think these things about the music. He wanted to hold onto his belief, with Castiel absent most of the time. It sure beat thinking his hot angel had abandoned him.


	2. Chapter 2 U Can't touch this

**I'm changing this story! Sorry but I deleted most of the chapters, changed most of this one (Chapter 2) and plan on taking this story in a new direction. It's different from the 3****rd**** paragraph on. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone, but I'm much more enthusiastic about writing the story now. BTW I don't plan to do that with any of my other stories, just this one. Thanks for reading! If there was a scene you really liked from the previous version, let me know, maybe I can recreate it somehow.**

_Charred branches, barely intact, ready to crumble, having lost all life by a fire that felt no remorse for what it took. Held together by ice so cold, the entire forest knew nothing of the flames that had heated each tree to oblivion. Now the ice that held them intact was who they were – cold, destitute, aching for something they could never have. Tears kept forming and ice took each tear, making the sadness solid and permanent._

Dean woke up abruptly from his nightmare. He had to grab the blanket covering him and wrap it tightly around him because he was shivering so hard. He reflected on the dream – Dean had dreamt of hell many times, but those dreams were filled with heat, smothered him with charred and smoky ashes that always tasted like human suffering and misery, and repetitively flashed images of the most vile cuts imaginable on a human body, and Dean causing those cuts, no matter how much he wanted to stop.

This time, it was a hellish dream for sure, but the coldness of the dream seemed to drain out any possibility of happiness and hope, making the warm hell dreams seem compassionate in comparison. And the sadness seemed eternal, never changing, in some ways a worse hell. At least his usual hell dreams had shifting images. He continued to shiver, and held the thin motel blankets tighter to him, remembering how Castiel's warm body once touched Dean's, longing to feel that exquisite ache to be quenched again by Castiel's skin. That and a look at his angelic face and soul-piercing eyes would heat up anything, even this infinite chill Dean had woken up with.

Dean finally talked himself out of bed with a hot shower and a cup of hot coffee afterwards. Sam too, looked cold, he kept rubbing his arms and turning up the small heater in the room up a little higher as they were getting ready to set out for the day. Neither of the men wanted to set a foot out into the drizzle they could see through the window, but they had come here for a reason, and were determined to see it through.

Sam wanted to find out if the locals believed or even knew about the story of the vanishing house. They decided the best way to find out was to get something to eat for breakfast at a local diner and to find out if anyone there would talk. They were staying in a nearby small town called Merrill, because Hamburg had no motels. It wasn't even a real town, more of a rural area. But hopefully Merrill was close enough that people would know about the house.

Dean just had to try Susie's Leaning Tower of Pancakes, but was disappointed the highest stack of pancakes on the menu was only 4 high. He was about to ask the waitress about the discrepancy when he noticed there was a breakfast pie on the menu.

"Hey, what's a breakfast pie?" Dean asked the waitress.

"You'll just have to order it, Sugar, and find out," she said, winking at Dean.

Dean couldn't resist a pie he'd never tasted. Or the chance to get his curiosity satisfied. He ordered the mystery pie and Sam ordered bacon and eggs.

Minutes later, Dean was so engrossed in his slice of pie, which tasted similar to pancakes and blueberry syrup with some cinnamon mixed in, that he almost forgot they were supposed to be trying to get some answers. But Sam remembered.

"So, Dean," he said rather loudly, "I wonder if there is any truth to that legend of the vanishing house or that vanishing dad near here in Hamburg? It's such a weird story, I don't know that it could actually be true."

"Yeah, but _something _happened," Dean said, just as loudly. "Otherwise, why would that article be in the paper? It's not like it was the _Enquirer._"

A big man sitting at the counter on a red stool turned around and got up, heading over to Dean and Sam's table. _Hook, line and sinker_, Dean thought, trying not to smirk too much.

The man was wearing a cotton plaid shirt, jean overalls, and a blue logging cap. His red-tinged sideburns looked as long as an airstrip. "I overheard you boys talking," he said. "I could tell you something about it."

Sam gave him a grateful look. "Please, sit down and join us. That would be great."

The man sat down on the extra chair, totally swallowing it with his large frame. He made eye contact with both Dean and Sam. "My name's Larry." Dean and Sam introduced themselves as well. "I'm a local logger and I grew up here in Merrill. Pretty much everyone here in town knows about that house and what happens and believes it. Not that we usually tell outsiders about it though, we don't. People just wouldn't understand. But you two look like you have an open mind."

"We do, and thank you," Sam said.

"You see, it's one of those things like Bigfoot," Larry continued. "Hard to explain and hardly anyone has seen any proof. But my grandma lived near that house back then, raising my mom. She knew the family there, knew the house had been standing. She even knew the little children that disappeared. When that happened, she figured it was kidnappers. But when the whole house disappeared, the family with it, she was flabbergasted as all get-out."

"I tell you what," Larry said. "As a teen, in high school, kids would go out and dare each other to go step onto that foundation. We'd sneak a few beers out of our parent's houses and drink up and see if we could get smashed enough to do it. But we never could. Sober or not, no one, not a single person could bring themselves to step onto that foundation. That was in the 80's. Then that guy, that father, disappeared one night my senior year. After that, no one would even go out there anymore. Heck, we had trouble just staying there for very long. That place felt _bad._ Like something got under your skin there and ate away at your soul, even after you left. Hell, some of us had nightmares that same night after we went out."

Dean stopped eating his pie and looked up. "Dreams about ice, and terrible sadness?" he inquired.

Larry's eyebrow rose. "Exactly! Dude, that means you've been there. Please tell me you won't walk on that foundation." He said, pointing at both of them. " Whatever you do, don't walk on it. I don't care if you think I'm crazier than a monkey's uncle, promise me that for my peace of mind."

Dean and Sam nodded solemnly. "We promise," they said in unison. "We had already decided on that anyway," Sam said. Then he looked at Dean. "You didn't tell me you'd had a nightmare."

"Sam, I have a nightmare every night. This one was just, different."

"You know what else, boys," Larry said, "like I said, I'm a logger, but no one will log that land. It was even up for grabs for awhile, but no one would take it. Not my boss, not anybody. No one likes the feel of those woods."

"Has anyone tried to destroy that foundation? Get rid of it?" Sam asked. "I'm not sure why it's still there if it spooks people so badly. "

Larry leaned in. "Yeah. One guy did try to do that. It was after that father in the 80's disappeared. He was the farmer who found the little girls practically catatonic in the car the next morning. His name's Elmer. He took a bulldozer down there, fully intending to dig it out into smithereens. That's what he told Ed at the Cat rental place before he left. And people saw Elmer taking off. Yet, some of the kids at my school went out there to check it out and they said the foundation was still there. That's when people really stopped going out there on a dare. When people asked Elmer what happened, he wouldn't talk about it. Ed was frustrated as hell when Elmer showed back up with the Cat, silent as a stone statue. Returned the keys and left without a word."

This case was getting more and more interesting, Dean thought. "Did anyone else disappear, besides the first family and that dad?"

"Not that I know of," Larry said. "But then like I said no one goes on the foundation. That's the way to stay safe."

Sam asked Larry if he knew any history about the land before the house vanished, and he said he didn't. "I'll tell you one other thing, though," he said, "that was rather odd. I read that same article you did. Notice how the dad was telling the girls how the first dad walked up on the foundation and disappeared that night? Obviously that's speculation, as how on earth would anyone know that if the dude disappeared without a trace? We all assume that's what happened, but nobody really knows. So, what I'm saying is, that's the story the local's would tell each other. I don't know how outsiders would know about it. I mean I'm telling you about it now, but back then we just didn't tell outsiders. New kids that came to the high school? We never told them about it. Real hush-hush."

"That seems strange," Sam said. "I'd think the local kids would want to brag about such a local legend. To scare the newbies, for one thing."

"We did at first," Larry said. "I wasn't in high school yet, but I heard about it. Of course kids wanted to go out there once someone opened their big mouth. Wanted to check it out. They didn't have the fear in them like we locals did. One guy even tried to stomp right up the stairs to show everybody how foolish and scaredy-catted we were. Don, on the football team that year, tackled the dude down, practically smothered him trying to get him to quit. It worked, for the time being. The guy's name was Steve. I think he's the one who disappeared in front of his girls. Because not many other outsiders found out about it the place. A few others that did got the royal creeps and never tried to go on the foundation, even if they thought the story was complete hogwash. They could still feel the vibes there."

Larry paused to look at both of Sam and Dean's faces. "You probably think I'm full of shit, and I wouldn't be surprised if you did. I just had to tell you this because I wouldn't be able to sleep at night wondering if you two were jollying around that god-forsaken place stepping on the foundation."

"Now that the story is out and public, I'm not sure you'll be able to prevent all curiosity seekers," Sam said.

"That's what I'm really afraid of. That's what we're all afraid of. Wish that article had never been published."

"Do you ever consider living somewhere else? Somewhere far away from that creepy place?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I have," Larry said. "I think we all have." He leaned in real close. Whispered, "Do you ever get this feeling, that even though it's not your fault, you gotta take responsibility; make sure no one else gets hurt? Cause that's how I feel. If I leave, think only of myself, maybe someone will pay for that with their life. I know, I know, you probably think I'm delusional by now…"

"No," Sam said. "We know _exactly_ how you feel. Thanks for your time. I was wondering if you could tell us where Elmer lives?"

Larry told them how to find Elmer's farmhouse, but added, "You'll be wasting your time to go. Elmer won't talk to the locals, and he really won't talk to outsiders about it. That key to his lips was flushed down the toilet years ago."

They thanked Larry again and both Winchesters received a meaty handshake as they were taking off.

Once out of the diner and into the car, well out of earshot from Larry and the wait staff that were leaning in listening the whole time, Dean and Sam both said, "We're going to Elmer's."


	3. Chapter 3 Things Remembered

NEW CHAPTER 3 – Please check Chapter 2 as well before reading this one, I've changed most of it for this story.

Elmer's house was easy to find. It was the first house with a barn once the main street in Merrill hit the countryside. Now, Dean thought, mentally rolling up his sleeves, we need to get Elmer to talk just as easily.

Dean drove up the muddy driveway and was glad his shoes weren't white once he stepped out of the Impala. Sam looked down at his feet too, and swore under his breath that the mud was freaking cold.

The brothers tip-toed on drier spots on the way to the large, wrap-around front porch of the house. "I hope this guy lets us in and he has a roaring fire going," Sam whispered as Dean started knocking.

"You and me both," Dean whispered back.

A wrinkled, elderly man opened the door. "Elmer?" Dean said, immediately wishing he'd gotten the man's last name from Larry, so he could sound more polite.

"Yeah?" Elmer confirmed.

The Winchesters introduced themselves, using their real first names but one of their commonly used fake last names. Dean smiled his most adorable smile, hoping the guy was feeling grandfatherly and welcoming.

"What do you want?" Elmer barked. "What the hell is this about? I'm not buying anything, and you can take your religion and shove it!"

"Oh, weren't not here for anything like that," Dean reassured him quickly. "We need to know something. Why did you go out to destroy that foundation out in Hamburg, and then come back without completing the job? What happened?"

Elmer slammed the door.

"I don't think the abrupt approach works with this dude, Dean," Sam said smartly.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean said, and started pounding on the door. They were way past the polite stage by now. "Come on, open up, Elmer! You better tell us why you didn't destroy the foundation, or I'm going to walk right on it myself!"

Dean kept knocking and pounding.

"He's not going to call your bluff, Dean."

Dean spun around, his heart instantly leaping to his throat. That gruff, angelic voice was better to hear than any of the beautiful music that had been piped into his brain the last few weeks.

"Cas?" Dean croaked out. Dean took in what he was seeing. _Trenchcoat, check. Dark bangs brushed upward, check. Stunningly gorgeous eyes piercing into my soul – CHECK!_ It was definitely Cas. Dean desperately wanted to put his hand up on Castiel's chest and feel it, make sure he was real, but this wasn't the appropriate time. Still, Dean felt it was in reason to make sure Cas didn't fly off like a helium balloon let loose.

"Cas!" Dean shouted again, and grabbed the angel's hand. It felt _soooo _good to even touch him just there. Warm electricity fused through Dean, flushing especially to his groin. _Damn_. He felt like a teenager. "Don't you go away on me right now? Where have you been?"

There was a whoosh of air, and Dean gripped Castiel's hand even tighter, afraid it meant that Castiel was making a departure. Instead, it was the door behind him opening up.

"Where did Trenchcoat come from? And why aren't your feet muddy?" Elmer asked. "And what's with the pansy stuff on my front porch?"

Dean reflectively let go of Castiel's hand at the last comment. He wanted to take Castiel somewhere else, where they could be alone, where he could start nuzzling that sexy neck of his…but there was a task at hand, and he had Elmer's attention again.

"Elmer," Dean said, using his best friendly tone. "We really need to know why you didn't crush the foundation of that house like you intended. It's really important."

Elmer was starting to slam the door again, when Castiel appeared right behind him, in the house, and stopped it. Then he did something that resembled a Vulcan neck pinch. Elmer fainted right into Castiel's arms.

_Lucky bastard_, Dean thought.

Castiel waved them in and dragged Elmer to a couch. "When he comes to, he'll be willing to talk," Castiel said.

About a minute later, Elmer was opening his eyes. Looking around, he realized the three men were in his home, uninvited. Elmer jumped up, shouting about how he was going to get his gun, because they were trespassers.

Dean shot Castiel a look that said, _you call this willing?_

Sam stood up, blocking Elmer's path with his muscular bulk. He also put up a hand. "Elmer, we aren't here to hurt you. But we really do need to know what happened at the foundation."

"Well, that's just too bad," Elmer was saying, but Dean interrupted him.

"Elmer, Castiel here is an expert hypnotist, and if you don't tell us willingly, then he'll get it out of you by any means possible. And he might throw in making you do the Funky Chicken down the main street of Merrill while he's at it!"

Castiel and Sam's eyebrows raised in unison. Elmer thought for a moment, and then said, "Alright. I'll tell you. Then get the hell out of here. If you want to use that info to ridicule me, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm an old man. I'm more than two steps into my grave."

"We're not here to ridicule you," Sam said. "We need the info to help the people that disappeared."

"They're long gone," Elmer said. "You'll never find them."

"Please tell us what happened, Elmer," Sam said.

"Alright." Elmer sat down. "I took that Cat bulldozer out there, one hell of a long trip, having to drive that slow the whole way. Anyway. I was sick of hearing all the stories of the teeny-boppers heading out there and messing around. Figured I'd get rid of that confounded foundation for good."

"Wait a minute. How did you hear that the teenagers were going out there? From what we heard, they barely talked about it," Sam said.

"Balderdash. Some of them talked, told their parents. It's a small town. People talk. Anyways, quit interruptin' so I can tell my story and you can get out of my house."

Sam nodded. Elmer continued. "So I get out there, and it's cold, damp and chill even though I left on a warm day in late May. I put the shovel of the bulldozer at the edge of the foundation and was about to start digging in when this _thing _appeared out of thin air."

"What _thing_?" Dean said.

"Let him talk," Sam said.

"I don't _know_ what it was!" Elmer said. "It was a _thing_! A monster, a demon, I have no clue! But I don't believe in such things, well I didn't until right _then_. When it was looking at me with those souless eyes. Have you ever felt like evil was looking straight into your eyes?"

"As a matter of fact, we have," Dean said.

"What did it look like?" Sam asked.

"It looked kinda like a grim reaper – like a skeleton and skull, but I think there was some flesh on it, but not much. It was slightly blue-green. It was an ugly mother, I tell you. It had this weird robe on too, like a damn wizard or something. The hood was over its head, but I could see this long white hair coming out. It floated, like a ghost. Then it bore some words into my skull without saying them out loud. That felt like the worst headache I'd ever had. And it felt sick, and bad, the most depressing feeling I've ever felt. It was telling me not to touch the foundation, ever, or it would hurt my family in ways unimaginable. I believed it."

"Well, why didn't you tell anyone?" Dean asked.

Elmer refused to answer.

"I think this man did as we asked, it's time for us to leave now," Castiel said.

Dean and Sam stood up and thanked Elmer, and left quietly. They headed out to the car, and Castiel followed them.

"So, you're not going to disappear now?" Dean said, hopefully.

"Not immediately," Castiel said. He joined the brothers in their car.

"So, thanks for helping out," Dean said. _And damn, you look fine._

"I needed to. The man was so embarrassed about the fact he saw someone appear out of thin air, the only way he would even open up about it was to see someone appear out of thin air again. He saw me show up suddenly on my porch, but didn't want to admit even that. He did point out my shoes, though."

The men nodded gratefully. "It's really good to see you again, Cas," Dean said.

"And you, Dean." Castiel said. "Let's go to your motel room" – that statement alone had Dean's heart back in his throat again – "and discuss this 'case' of yours."

Sam laughed. "For a minute there Cas, I thought you were going to say something else!"

Dean shot Sam a look that could kill, even though Dean had really been hoping Cas _had _been saying something else.

Even so, Dean was really happy Castiel was going to stick around for awhile.

Sam typed into his laptop what he could remember Elmer saying about the creature that had stopped him. "I'm not sure what this is yet," Sam said, "But I can do some digging to find out."

"Whatever it is, that foundation is really important to it," Dean said. "I'm almost wondering if we should provoke it ourselves; see if we can talk to it."

"I'm not sure that would be wise," Castiel said.

"What? You know what this thing is?" Dean said. "If you do, tell us already."

"All I really know that it is very dangerous, and it needs to be stopped."

Dean rolled his eyes, but bit his tongue before saying something sarcastic. He was a little too giddy anyway to be making remarks about Captain Obvious at the moment. "Well, tell us what you do know," Dean said instead.

"I just did."

"Then you know nothing."

"You could say that."

"Let's start over," Dean said. "What made you decide to help us?"

"Orders from high. I needed to do this one thing for you, but cannot interfere too much. However, I can tell you there are layers to this puzzle that need to be found, to be unlocked. This demon is a special tool of Lucifer's. It has its own purpose as well, but because it is so powerful, Lucifer has recruited it for his own means. It must be stopped."

"So you _do_ know something. It's a demon."

"Yes, in a way."

The tension was killing Dean. The conversation was hitting too many speed bumps, and the raw ache to touch Castiel, kiss him, hold him, was overwhelming him. He grabbed Castiel's arm. "Excuse us Sam. I need to talk to Cas alone." He dragged Castiel into the bathroom and shut the door.

"Don't mind me," Sam said to himself. "I'll keep digging."

In the bathroom, Dean practically plastered Cas against the door with his body as he leaned in for a lingering kiss. And another one. Damn, he really didn't want to let go. _._. Those cushiony lips of his were more than edible, they were downright delicious and soft and heavenly against his own. Castiel's warm body against his was making him feel like he was riding some kind of blissful wave. It was _very_ true about absence making the heart grow fonder. _Not to mention the flesh!_

Castiel kissed Dean back eagerly, and then pulled back a moment to give Dean one of those _THUD! _worthy looks that Castiel was so good at. Dean relished in it, looked at him silently for a few moments, realizing he might not get to see Castiel again for a few weeks.

"I really wish I could see you more often," Dean said softly. "Any way you can pop in randomly here and there? I know you are busy…"

Castiel grabbed Dean's hand. "I will try – but for the most part, I do not have my own will. At least we know that our relationship is the will of God, or it wouldn't be happening."

"You're making me afraid of what happens when this suddenly isn't the will of God anymore," Dean said. "But let's not talk of that now. We have just barely got started."

Cas just stared at Dean after that last comment, which made Dean want to kiss him again. He kissed not only his luscious lips, but that adorably perfect nose of his as well. It was funny to see Castiel go cross-eyed for a moment, looking at it.

Dean pulled away eventually to ask, "Hey, are you the one piping music into my brain?"

Castiel smiled, probably the first real smile Dean had ever seen on Castiel, well since they'd made love. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it! What made you decide to do it? And how do you do it, did you make up the music yourself?"

"I wanted to let you know our bond is still strong, and that I am thinking of you." Just like Dean had thought. "I don't really make the music myself, but I do play a part in its development – but that is a story for another time. We better go out and speak to Sam right now, I need to leave soon."

Dean hugged Castiel and gave him another kiss. "See you soon, I hope."

They left the bathroom and joined Sam. Castiel looked about to say something, opening his mouth, but then said nothing. "What?" Dean said. Castiel only said, "Never mind."

Changing the subject, Castiel said, "Be careful. This demon you are looking for is very dangerous. I don't want anything to happen to either one of you. Good luck."

And then Castiel disappeared without saying goodbye, as usual, _darn him_.


	4. Chapter 4 Eating your sadness

Dean's lips were still tingling as he drove down the highway. "_It was the heat of the moment, heat of the moment, shone in your eyes…_" Dean sang suddenly. All the built up tension that had been inside him for weeks was flowing free now that he'd seen and kissed Castiel, and he felt _good_. Castiel's bedroom eyes and sensual lips were still leaving a vivid image in his head and on his heart, and he wished the memory didn't have to fade. But for now, he was riding on a good feeling and couldn't help but sing about it.

"Dean, _seriously_?" Sam said.

"What?"Dean asked.

"I hate that song. Why don't you turn on your music anyway? I'll help you get it started." Sam picked up and started rummaging through Dean's box of old cassette tapes.

"Why do you hate that song?" Dean asked.

"Never mind." Sam took one of the cassettes out of the box and plugged it into the player. AC/DC started up, singing about "Hell's Bells."

Dean considered saying he wasn't in the mood for Hell's Bells, but decided not to fight it. He was going to have to sneak in some Asia sometime when Sam was off doing something else.

They were heading back to Hamburg, bundled up in the extra long johns and winter wear they'd bought at the store. Dean wondered if their purchase was going to end up useless. He had a feeling that the chill in the air had nothing to do with cold fronts or other weather terms he'd heard the weather man use when he watched the forecast in the morning. Still, mentally, the extra layers of clothes provided a mental armor that made the task before them a little more bearable. They could at least _hope_ they would stay warm.

Dean tapped his knuckles on the steering wheel and hummed "Heat of the Moment" to himself, unable to ignore the energy inside him. He was happy. Life was good, he'd seen his angel, and maybe they'd solve this case and make life better for several people all at once.

Twenty minutes down the road, Dean wasn't happy at all. Life was miserable. Castiel was gone way, way more than he was here. People were dying daily and no matter what Dean did, he couldn't save everyone, and he felt like he might as well stop trying. And the people on this case, oh, their life was a living hell. Dean felt all of their pain and the need to curl up in a ball to hopefully escape it. He was tempted to turn the car around and get far, far away from the whole situation. Then maybe he would feel better.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean said irritably.

"Your mood just took a nose dive. I'm not feeling so great myself. I keep thinking of when you went to hell. And when Jessica died. Pretty rotten times. I wonder if this place is affecting us?"

Dean thought about it. "I think you're right. I went to feeling great to feeling like crap in twenty minutes. I feel like everything is hopeless now."

"I can hear it in your voice," Sam said compassionately. "Do you need a hug?"

"I'm driving, you idiot," Dean said abruptly.

"I was kidding! Trying to make you laugh."

Dean glared over at Sam. "I'm not laughing."

"No shit, Sherlock. Look, Dean. We really need to try and keep this place from affecting us. But I'm not sure how, I feel like it's sinking into my bones."

At the same time Sam said that, Dean noticed that he was hearing the faint melody of Castiel's music in his head suddenly, while random bad times flashed through his mind. He strained inwardly to listen closely, and the tempo of the music increased. Eagerly, he waited to see how it turned out, while being on guard somewhat, because Castiel never gave him the music other than at night.

The music changed so subtlety that it took Dean several minutes to realize that this couldn't be Castiel's music at all. Rapid drumbeats felt malicious, low piano keys sounded dismal. The sad and hateful music seemed to _create_ the grief Dean was feeling for everything wrong in the world. It was very disturbing, that something Dean considered private and intimate between him and Castiel was being violated and turned into this monstrosity. It was the worst music he'd ever heard. Just like a great song could make Dean feel uplifted, this song ground grief into him like a stake to the heart.

Dean begged Castiel to make it stop, and kept his mouth shut, didn't tell Sam about it, because he didn't want to have to tell Sam about Castiel's music.

Dean waited. The music was so horrid that Dean turned his head slightly towards the door's window so Sam wouldn't see the grimace on his face. But eventually a softer, more compelling song grafted its way into the nightmarish song from hell. For awhile, they seemed to fight, volumes of each song changing, one gaining more strength than the other, an enticing song and a rotten one. Like two radios were turned on at once to two different stations, but it wasn't just an overlap of noise. These songs actually _fit _together, even though they were on opposite sides of the scale. It was the most bizarre thing Dean had ever heard in his life.

Dean imagined that Castiel was constantly linking the notes of his song to the nasty song. Like a chain link fence – each link had to connect to the next one. Castiel probably had to grab a hold of the song and literally make it something new by connecting to each and every note, changing it as the connection took.

Where were these crazy thoughts coming from? Dean didn't know if that was even possible with music. What he knew about music was which bands were kick-ass, and who played what instrument. He didn't know anything about the construction of a song, hell, he'd barely had a chance to pound out some noise on a piano as a kid.

Eventually Castiel's music won the battle in his head, and Dean was practically smiling.

"What just happened? You look like you just fought with some inner demons, and won."

Dean glanced at Sam. "Pretty much."

"Well, are you going to tell me about it?"

"No." Dean was surprised Sam hadn't interrupted his inner fight with his thoughts, but wasn't going to ask him why. "How are you doing?" he asked instead.

"Pretty lousy, actually. Dean, we've dealt with all kinds of heinous creatures, but nothing like this, it's like some kind of soul vampire or something. Or, happiness vampire, because it sucks the happiness right out of you."

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding. But that's all he wanted to say. They finished their drive in silence, both in deep thought.

The woods of Hamburg felt like a haunted house set, once again. Except there was no house. They both looked around at the ground, looking for a sign of something unusual. Frustrated after finding nothing, Dean started shouting. "Whatever you are, come out and face us!"

"Dean, I'm not sure that's wise," Sam whispered loudly.

"I don't care. Someone needs to get this son of a bitch out in the open so we can fight it!"

"Dean, this thing is so much more powerful than us! We need the upper hand!"

"So what do you suggest we do about it, Sam? I'm all ears," Dean shouted.

"Dean, you're letting the mood of the place get to you."

"No shit, Sherlock!"

"Fight it! Think of the most peaceful thing you can. Anything!"

Dean knew he had a very good point. He closed his eyes, blocking out all of the cold, wet, leafless branches and gray sky, and thought about Castiel.

It started with a general memory of Cas – their friendship that had turned into more. Which lead to his feelings of longing, but he didn't want to stay there long, as it was a more upsetting emotion. So he just settled on the good feeling he had about everything he and Castiel had shared, and felt a pleasant peace and happiness descend on him. Dean could have sworn Castiel's wings were suddenly wrapping around him and protecting him, but he figured it was just his imagination. Either way, it felt great.

Dean was thinking of how Castiel's eyes could make him turn into a puddle of mush, when a scratchy sounding voice yelled out, "Your attempts are pointless, human. Give it up and leave here."

Dean's eyes snapped open and reflexively he pulled out his gun with salt plugs in it. Sam had done the same.

Floating between them was a ghost–like creature that looked exactly like Elmer had described. Its bony face had no flesh on it, but its fingers had flaps hanging like a loose bandage. It wore a green and purple robe, with strange symbols in yellow embroidery on the lining of the hood. There was a sickly, faint green light coming through the eye sockets, and some of the bones had a bluish tinge.

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "Tell us or we'll shoot you right now.

The creature laughed, which was more of a sandpaper-on-wood sound than uplifting laughter.

"Just try it. Human. You cannot harm me with table seasonings."

Dean wondered if he should call his bluff, but if it was an empty one, and he disappeared, he wouldn't be able to get answers out of him.

"Who are you?" Dean asked instead.

"I have no reason to answer you. Leave now, before I destroy you."

It started reaching a slimy arm towards Dean, and Dean remembered what Elmer had sad about a sick feeling being branded into his skull. Dean jumped back, and shot a pellet in self-defense.

The salt flew right through the creature and it laughed again. Then, "I tire of your games. I wish to make you feel sadness and pain. Come closer."

"Why do you wish us to feel sadness and pain?" Sam demanded. "And why the hell should we come closer? Are you rooted to one spot?"

"Because I can, and a symphony of pain is my sustenance. And I demand you move closer because you are you are a measly human and are no more than the food I eat."

Dean raised an eyebrow, and his voice. "Look, motherfucker. You've got this back-asswards. _You _are the one who is a measly, dead, piece of shit, and we are the ones that are going to kill you and wipe you off the face of this earth!"

The creature laughed again. "Just try it. You do not have the power to destroy me. I am stronger than you can imagine."

"So, what happens if we touch your precious foundation over here?" Sam asked, gesturing to the wet, gray slab nearby.

"I dare you to walk on it. You will be, without a doubt, mine if you do so. I would welcome it."

"What's the difference," Sam asked, "Between us stepping closer to you and being your meal, and us walking on that foundation over there, and us becoming _yours_, as you put it?"

"I do not want to waste time with your questions any further!" The creature shouted, and Dean felt a sharp stab of pain in his head, making him reflexively duck, and saw Sam was doing the exact same thing. The pain increased, and Dean started to feel like every happy feeling he'd ever had was fading into nothing, leaving only all the ugly and unpleasant feelings he'd felt in his life. It was so similar to his despair and utter hopelessness in hell, that he tried with every ounce of will to resist it, but it wasn't working. He could feel himself slipping into sheer agony.

"Dean, _RUN!_" Dean heard Sam shout, and Sam was already taking off, while looking backwards to make sure Dean was coming. Dean realized this was his only option at the moment, so he sprinted, and didn't look back until they were much closer to their car.

The ghostly creature was gone, and Dean's headache and sick feeling of suffering was fading. Enough to feel some relief, but not enough for Dean's mood to improve. He felt like shit now, and couldn't wait to get out of there.


End file.
